


Five Times He Said No

by dimeliora



Category: SPN
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Historical, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Priest Kink, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeliora/pseuds/dimeliora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Dean said no to Sam through history, and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times He Said No

**Title:** Five Times He Said No  
 **Author:** [](http://dimeliora.livejournal.com/profile)[**dimeliora**](http://dimeliora.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** SPN  
 **Wordcount:** 3,981  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing(s):** Sam/Dean  
 **Warning(s):** Mentions of injury  
 **Prompt(s):** Written for the [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/). Inspired by Barenaked Ladies' "It's All Been Done." The last scene was worked out with [](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/)**clex_monkie89** and namely this part of the conversation where I mocked this being "Bloodlines" end fic and her quoting Sam, "DAMMIT, DEAN, I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDN'T HAVE JUST LEFT IT."  
 **Summary:** Five times Dean said no to Sam through history, and one time he didn't.

  
**Rome, 150 A.D.**

“All I’m saying is maybe it’s time you stopped. Maybe this is a sign that you should come home to stay. You served your time in the military, you are a citizen, and you’ve earned your rest.”

His brother rolls his eyes and then slumps a little deeper into the cushions. Sam is sick to death of Dean rolling his eyes.

“Sammy. You’re acting like I’m an old man. I’ve still got a lot of good years left in me.”

It takes everything Sam has to not look sardonic at that.

“You were gored.”

“I was cut up a little. It’s not a problem. The chirurgii says I’ll be fine.”

“The chirurgii said you were lucky to have not died and he has rarely had to wash a man’s intestines.”

Dean rolls his eyes again and Sam, helpless to the sudden rush of anger it brings up in him, steps on Dean’s foot hard.

“Ow! Don’t do that!”

Sam crouches in front of his brother, takes Dean’s chin in his hand, and makes sure that they are connected fully and that Dean is giving him all of his attention.

“I do not wish to burn you and spread your ashes. I do not want to wear a mask and grieve. I’ve done that enough. Our position is secure, our household has leverage and friends, and I am well placed in the Senate to continue that. We can just live Dean. We can just be happy.”

Dean’s fingers thread through his hair gently, rub the scalp just right, and then Dean tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow.

“The medicus says I’m ready for a little fun. You could make me happy.”

It’s not a promise. It’s nothing solid. Sam knows that Dean will still go out risking life and limb in the pursuit of saving the people. That his soldier brother has joined a new war now that the regular ones have ceased, and that this latest injury at the hands of the minotaur is just one in a long line of injuries until the last.

That being said, Sam also knows the value of the moment. That Dean is right in saying that Sam can make him happy. That making Dean happy makes him more interested in coming home.

Sam follows the gentle pressure from Dean’s hand down, slides his lips up his brother’s thigh and nudges the tunic up with his nose. For every delicious inch of Dean’s cock that he can see Sam can also spy the bottom edge of the bandages that cover the wound he almost lost his brother to.

He noses at Dean’s hardening cock, tongue poking out to drag along the smooth flesh, and Dean moans even as his grip tightens.

“Sammy. Oh gods Sammy.”

This isn’t the only reason he can’t lose his brother, but it’s a pretty big one. Sam doesn’t tease long, not with the state Dean is in, and once his mouth is wrapped around Dean’s cock and sliding up and down with wet suctioning noises he loses himself in the act.

Dean bucks up into his mouth, and bites off a cry of pain as a result. So Sam pins his brother’s hips down and then slides down to the root. It makes him choke a bit, but Sam relaxes his throat as much as he can to keep Dean deep and inside of him. He feels a gentle thumb brush the tears from underneath his eyes as Dean’s other hand keeps a firm grip in his hair.

Sam reaches down, grips his own cock, and jerks himself off as he continues to swallow Dean down. He feels the undulation in Dean’s hips, the trembling of his thighs, and swallows hard to tip Dean over the edge. He finishes a moment later, spraying the tile and slumping against Dean.

“Won’t you just consider it? Please?”

The soft stroking of Sam’s hair is a perfectly silent and lovely no.

 

\----

 

**Winchester, England 1391**

“Bless me father for I have sinned.”

The voice is right against his ear, throaty and deep, and Sam shudders despite himself.

“Stop that.”

“You would deny a man his confession? Damn him to hell?”

A hand slides against his stomach, and then deft fingers begin popping buttons on his cassock. Sam wonders for maybe the thousandth time if hell is a thing they should joke about.

“If that man doesn’t feel an ounce of repentance then yes I would. But go ahead. What’s your confession?”

He feels the fastening on his breeches give underneath Dean’s movements, and then they and his undergarments are being dropped to the floor with a whisper of cloth on skin. Winchester Cathedral is not a terribly warm place, and here in his room Sam has only just lit the fire after returning from late Mass. The cold makes him shiver, and Dean pushes him bodily onto the bed, on his knees, and then blankets him from behind.

One callused and strong hand wraps around Sam’s cock, and he takes a deep breath when Dean’s hand starts to move in slow and gentle tugs.

“I ate meat on Friday.” The hand twists at the head and Sam gasps and grips the headboard. “I used the Lord’s name in vain. Many times.” Fingers slide up the back of Sam’s thigh and one presses against his hole. Dean must have dipped them into oil before he accosted Sam. “I fucked my brother the priest of Winchester Cathedral.”

“And if gossip is to be believed every other willing hole in the area.”

Dean’s fingers push hard and fast and Sam gasps and grips the headboard. It’s been a while, and the burn is a bit more intense than he expected.

“Sammy. You know I don’t sin like this with anyone else.” Dean’s lips brush gently against the back of his neck “Now what’s my penance?”

He wants to come up with something smart and witty, something to remind Dean that this is unacceptable. That his brother can’t just show up in the middle of the night and expect Sam to play along and to mock his entire lifestyle. His calling.

Sam wants to, but the blunt head of Dean’s dick slides into him, and all the breath rushes out of him. His cassock brushes the head of his cock, Dean’s hand works the shaft, and Sam’s fingers scrabble against the wall before he finds purchase on the headboard.

Having a good appointment and an opulent bedroom at his age and level of experience is yet another perk of being the Lord of Winchester’s youngest son. He’s grateful for that in this moment, because Sam is unable to keep from moaning like a common whore as Dean pushes into him.

“And what about you Father Sammy? What are your sins?” Dean’s lips press against the shell of his ear, puff hot air with every panting breath, and Sam can’t think straight let alone answer logically.

It’s a dominance game now. Dean stepping into Sam’s tightly controlled world and shaking it up, deflecting every accusation and scandalous comment he can. But Sam knows the truth. He knows that for every wagging tongue in the streets that suggests that Lord Winchester’s son tours the countryside looking for willing serving girls and farmer’s daughters Dean is saved from being exposed as a monster hunter.

That his brother is taking him from behind to no doubt hide yet another wound or six, gained in the process of hunting a fae that’s been terrorizing the nearby region.

“Every night I pray for the deaths of strangers.”

Dean freezes, cock halfway in Sam and hand gripping him just a shade too tight.

“What?”

Suddenly the sexy voice has no force, no breath, and Sam wonders if maybe the delivery was just a shade off. But he’s in it now.

“Every night. I pray that you’ll let the villagers and farmers sort it out on their own. That you’ll let them die and come home. That you’ll be safe here with us instead of out there throwing yourself into danger at every opportunity.”

For a second Sam thinks Dean will slide completely out of him. Simply leave. They’ve had the argument so much Sam can probably have it alone and properly simulate Dean’s side of it.

Instead his brother buries his face in Sam’s neck and takes a deep breath before restarting his rhythm.

“Five Hail Marys Sammy and six Our Fathers. Go and sin no more.”

 

\----

 

**The Santa Fe Trail 1821**

 

Sam hates the trail. Hates everything about it. The constant bouncing, the dust, the lack of privacy. He misses their home in Virginia. He misses his bookstore. He misses not having to listen to Bill Bucknell brag every fucking day about how brave and smart he is for planning this expedition.

That being said, Sam knows that this is something Dean wanted, and his brother so rarely asks for things. Dean spent hours talking about the home they would build, the new country they would live in, and how he’d never see another goddamn fancy gentleman in his life if he could help it. The picture Dean painted of the two of them against the land was enticing. The idea of having a bedroom that no one would walk into was the final straw to Sam’s resistance.

But the trip to that little reclusive piece of domesticity was much harder than Sam had imagined. And it culminated in this moment, Sam in the woods with pieces of pine and bark digging into his ass and distracting him from the tight heat of his brother’s ass.

“Put a little life into it Sammy. I can’t do all the work here.”

Dean’s fisting his own cock, one hand on Sam’s shoulder for balance, and Sam really does want to help him but the thin blanket they laid down isn’t protecting his delicate flesh from anything. He gives one strong thrust and comes down on a sharp piece of bark right under his nutsack. It takes a lot of effort to not cry out. They snuck fairly far from the main expedition party, but that sort of shout would bring someone running.

“Can we _please_ switch positions Dean? I’m pretty sure I’ve got half the forest up my ass.”

His brother grins lasciviously, tongue wagging brightly.

“And I’ve got a whole tree up mine but you don’t see me- oh shit.”

Sam manages to pull Dean down on him fully, and then he rolls them over so that Dean can take the nature detritus to his back and Sam only has to worry about his knees. He starts fucking Dean in earnest, cock pulling and pushing against the tight rim of Dean’s asshole. Dean is blessedly out of snark for a short period of time.

“Will you farm? Or try for prospecting? They talk about hills of gold.”

Dean’s face scrunches up as he arches his back and pushes harder into Sam.

“I’m going to hunt a chupacabra. They brought back stories of them from the treaty of Cordoba. The first hunter to kill one.” His brother’s face is lustful and dreamy, an interesting combination that would please Sam if not for the message coming with it.

“I thought you weren’t hunting anymore. I thought this was our new beginning Dean. Just the two of us against the land. Not me staying in some drafty cabin while you head off into God knows what and possibly get killed by a cattle predator.”

Dean reaches out and grabs Sam’s arms, twisting on his dick in an effort to get Sam moving again.

“Sammy, Sammy come on I’m dying here.”

“No. No Dean. Not until you say this isn’t a chance for you to become a more prolific hunter. Not until you _promise_ me that we’re going to live like regular people.”

“Sam you’re fucking your brother. We’re never going to be normal-“

“You _know_ what I mean.”

He really believes that Dean will at least discuss it. Do something other than blow Sam off again.

Sam should have known better.

Dean tightens down, arches his back and moans so pretty, and Sam can’t help but surge forward into Dean and take what’s being offered.

The discussion is over before it began, and maybe Sam is a little forceful as he pulls Dean’s lower half up higher and fucks him long and hard. But if this is his denial then he’ll make Dean pay for it. He fucks his brother until his knees are raw and he’s dripping in sweat. Dean’s already come, and is pliant in Sam’s hands as Sam works himself to spilling inside his brother’s ass.

In the morning light Sam can see the scrapes and bruises on Dean’s shoulders from where the weight of his body and the force of Sam’s thrusts shoved him into the forest floor. He only feels a twinge of remorse.

 

\-----

**New York, New York  June 17 th, 1945**

Sam stands on the dock, sun beating down on the back of his neck, and waits for his brother. As part of the 86th infantry Dean has fought long and hard to defeat the Nazis and come home. Sam couldn’t be more excited, or more proud. By the time he was of age to go though, the war was already over.

He’s surrounded by proud family members, USO girls, and nurses that wait to care for the more wounded soldiers and carry them off. Sam thinks of all the families that have to wait, of the combat point system and how hard it must be to know that the fighting has ceased but their loved ones won’t arrive.

Their father was sent home earlier, shrapnel in his back and knees, and he’s currently at the hospital recovering so Sam and Dean will have the house all to themselves when the train finally gets them there. Sam can’t wait. He remembers saying goodbye to Dean. The way they clung to each other, how gentle and sweet Dean was, and how glad Sam was that his brother finally gave in to what they both wanted.

Sam pictures their reunion as something beautiful and loving. Something that will last. He dreams of a life for the two of them, a world in which it’s only them. They can’t be open, for multiple reasons, but many bachelors live together and work. No one has to know.

When Dean steps off the ship Sam wraps his arms around him and holds tight. Dean pats his back, squeezes him tight, and then they take a cab to the train station and get on the train back to Kansas. They haven’t even spoken, but Sam’s so happy to see Dean alive and whole it doesn’t matter. They’re going to be together. Dean’s going to be safe.

Sam can only lift an eyebrow when Dean pulls the curtains shut, locks the door to their compartment, and then his brother sinks down to his knees and undoes Sam’s pants before engulfing his dick whole.

He can’t believe it. The warmth of Dean’s mouth, the green and gold of his eyes, and the way his brother’s callused fingers dig into his thighs through the material of his slacks. The train is speeding along, taking them home, and Dean’s tongue is rubbing along the vein of Sam’s cock as lips rub friction along the lower part of his shaft.

Sam wants to return the favor, to help, but he’s frozen in place watching Dean. One of his hands manages to make it to Dean’s face and he rubs his thumb along the line between Dean’s lips and the skin of his dick. His brother’s mouth is so pretty.

It doesn’t take long. Sam comes with Dean swallowing him down, and then his brother lays his head down on Sam’s thigh and breathes slow and deep.

There’s no stopping it now. Words spill out of Sam’s mouth without control.

“Dean. Dean you’re home. You’re home now and we can start something. A life. Right? We can start a life now. No more fighting and no more danger. Just us. Together. We’ll come back to Lawrence and visit Dad and then go home to wherever we want to live and just be us forever. It’s gonna be so great.”

The eyes slant up at him, Dean squinting a bit in the sunlight, and then his brother gives Sam a small and tight smile.

“Yeah. No more fighting.”

Later Sam is unpacking Dean’s bags and he finds the knife. It’s beautiful, craftsmanship perfect and blade balanced and sharp, and the sigils on it make Sam’s eyes hurt to read.

Dean has a new knife. Something that he no doubt looked for in the Old World so that he could kill monsters better.

His brother never says no out loud, but when he takes off on a hunt three weeks later Sam can take the hint.

 

\----

 

**Denver, Colorado  2006**

“We’re done. We’re done Dean. We don’t _have_ to do this anymore. Dad’s dead, Mom’s dead, and there’s no getting them back. We’ve suffered enough.”

Dean groans, forehead dropping onto the table and Sam wonders why they still do this. Why it feels like they’ve always done this. By the time he was willing to make this argument out loud he’d rehearsed it so much Sam was practically able to mouth Dean’s lines. His brother mirrors his thought patterns, as he so often does.

“We’ve had this fight before. It’s not over Sam.”

But it is. For Sam it is. He sits up that night staring at his bags and thinking. Dean has always come for him before, and maybe this time Dean will get the hint. That Sam will stop running if he has a place to stay. If he’s given stability he will stick with it.

Sam stares at his bag all night, but in the morning he rubs his tired eyes and packs up. Gets in the car with Dean and doesn’t suggest it again. They’ll find the thing. They’ll get their revenge. And maybe when that’s done they’ll finally stop. Maybe Dean will finally say yes.

Later, when he has time to reflect on it, Sam will wish with all his might that he had picked up the bag and gone. That he had at least attempted to make Dean reconsider for a moment what was more important. Before Sam himself forgot too.

 

\-----

 

**And one time he didn’t:**

**Washington D.C.  2952**

 

The news is nothing but stories of the grand rebellion. People are talking about the overthrow of the Monster Government, the death of the five clans, and the vicious Winchester brothers who led the uprising.

Sam is draped over Dean, the position awkward but they both wanted to see the screen and they’re both legitimately too tired to be upright. Instead Sam is lying down on Dean’s chest, his brother’s dick deep inside him, and the two of them moving slowly together. It’s more resting than fucking at this point, but Sam’s ok with that. In the course of the last ten years of fighting they’ve had enough fast and hard goes at each other to last a lifetime.

Not that Sam wants that to end either.

Dean’s not even jerking him off anymore. His hand is resting on top of Sam’s dick, cloth bandages adding a strange sort of friction and making Sam horny without movement, but ultimately unfulfilled. The moment he thinks it Dean’s voice in his head reminds him he’s filled in other ways.

“You think we picked the right temporary leader till the election?”

Sam shifts a little, moans at the drag of Dean’s cock, and then settles back against him more comfortably.

“I think we picked the only person for the job. It wasn’t going to be one of us.”

Dean nods, lips brushing up and down against Sam’s head, and Sam wonders if they should have this conversation after they finish fucking. Not that such a consideration has ever stopped them before. A lot of their plans were made with Sam bent over a table looking sideways at a map, or Dean riding him on a chair and pointing at wall charts and profiles. Sex talk is rarely very sexy.

“Damn straight.”

His brother starts moving again, slow and steady, thighs straining underneath Sam as he tries to get the right leverage to fuck Sam properly. Instead they keep up the shallow little movements that get both of them nowhere but feel so good.

“I can’t believe how much of a bitch those Djinn were. I really thought after the Shifters crumbled they’d just slink off.”

Sam squeezes around Dean’s dick, hands pushing into the mattress and back arching in an attempt to make something more out of what they’re doing.

“They had a backup plan Dean. Remember when you learned the value of planning? It worked pretty well for them.”

Dean pushes Sam’s hands up, and now it’s vindictive how slow his dick moves, how shallow his thrusts are.

“Not that well considering we used about two gallons of lamb’s blood to gank every last one of them.”

Sam frowns and twists, plants his heels into the mattress, and uses that to move himself at a faster pace.

“Cheating Sammy.” Dean’s voice is amused, husky, and Sam grins at that before he finds himself being rolled over and blanketed. Now if he wants to get free he has to risk seriously injuring himself or Dean. A thing he’s not interested in doing.

“Now who’s cheating?”

Dean chuckles and continues the slow and torturous thrusts that make Sam want to scream. His dick is pinned into the mattress now and he can’t get to it to jerk himself off. He reaches around backwards, awkwardly, and grabs at Dean’s ass to push his brother forward.

Laughter is the only response, and Sam reconsiders the hurting Dean idea.

“Sammy. Sammy we won.”

And out of nowhere, that internal instinct that says this is the moment to be the little brother, to annoy Dean to no end kicks in. Sam’s mouth forms words he’s managed to not say in eleven years. Since they started building the army. Since they burned their father’s body.

“Yeah. Hey. Maybe now we can get a house, and a dog, and 9 to 5’s.”

Dean freezes behind him, and Sam thinks he’s won. Now Dean will fuck him fast and hard, finish as quickly as he can, and flee from the thought of not chasing down the leftover monsters that managed to escape the reach of their army.

Then Dean’s lips press against his ear, and his brother starts to fuck him slow and soft again.

“I think we need two dogs.”

Sam is grateful that Dean keeps going, that he doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Sam is crying a little. That Sam turns his face and presses it against Dean’s corded arm to taste his brother’s skin and add another point of connection.

It’s not until Dean picks up the speed and works them both to orgasm, until he rolls them over so that he’s spooning Sam from behind, a hand lazily stroking up and down his side, that Sam finally finds the voice to speak again.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah Sammy?”

“I love you.”

He hears Dean lick his lips, shift a little, and then Dean kisses the back of his head.

“Knock knock Sammy.”

“Who’s there?”

“The KGB.”

Sam turns his face so he can catch a glimpse of Dean’s big and eager smile.

“The KGB wh-“

He’s cut off by the sharp slap of Dean’s hand to his ass, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and his mouth falls open even as Dean’s grin becomes maniacal.

“Ve vill ask the questions!”

Dean sleeps in a separate bed until he finds them a house.  



End file.
